


A Song's Tapestery

by Cy_JadeWaters



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Sanrion - Fandom, Sansa Stark x Tyrion Lannister
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, F/M, Game of Thrones References, Sanrion AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cy_JadeWaters/pseuds/Cy_JadeWaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where being normal was valued more than any gold a king or their kingdom could know, there were those that were not of that stock. They were viewed as the freaks, the undesirables of the world and yet people would gladly pay a pretty coin to watch these freaks. There were those that could swing from bars attracted to wires that could cut a man’s neck if they broke. Women that couldn’t control their facial hair and even those born shorter than the shortest person of average height. </p>
<p>Tyrion Lannister, advertises as 'The Imp', works as a side show freak and book keeper of the local traveling circus who secretly admires Sansa Stark, The Little Bird, trapeze and tightrope artist. Together they face judgment of those both inside and outside the Circus. Through friendship and maybe even love, they each sing a part in 'A Song's Tapestry'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strike Up The Melody

In a world where being normal was valued more than any gold a king or their kingdom could know, there were those that were not of that stock. They were viewed as the freaks, the undesirables of the world and yet people would gladly pay a pretty coin to watch these freaks. There were those that could swing from bars attracted to wires that could cut a man’s neck if they broke. Women that couldn’t control their facial hair and even those born shorter than the shortest person of average height. 

Tyrion was along the latter folk; his head was of normal human size while his arms and legs were shortened. He was smart and strong, but they didn’t care about that. They just wanted to stare and laugh at the little man. He hated that this was the only job he could manage to find, though on a side note the owner of the circus trusted him enough to run the business’s books as it seemed the man realized that while Tyrion balanced them they were always in the black.

There was another among the members of the circus who seemed like she didn’t belong with the freaks, and yet everyone treated her like she was nothing. Sasha the little bird of the wire as she was advertised. Her parents worked with the animals while she got to soar above the heads of the most dangerous animal in existence, humans. Tyrion always made sure he got to watch her fly and it was the one time in his day he felt truly normal, in awe of true beauty and talent. However, he kept these feelings of admiration to himself, for surely a young lady as beautiful as the Little Bird would scream in horror knowing she was being watched by the little freak.

~break~

The circus was silent as slumber hung over the workers and creatures, all except for one. He enjoyed the silence, that peace that claimed the world for the briefest of moments. He was left alone to his thoughts, he could walk among the cages and tents without being stared at or judged in some pity or hate emotion shining back from the eyes that looked upon him. Tyrion stopped near the entrance of the circus’s grounds, gazing out over the area were many of the guests would park their model Ts or little horse drawn buggies. The ground torn up by the many wheels that would not be able to repair itself until the circus pulled up its stakes and moved on to another town. He found it slightly amusing how similar to his soul that ground was. Torn apart by the visitors that came just because of the circus. 

Turning away, the book keeper known to the visitors as ‘The Imp’ headed back toward the tent that serviced all as the mess hall. There he sat down and began to look over the little book in his hands as a mug of coffee steamed nearby, a clue its freshness. Suddenly a voice all too familiar to Tyrion’s ears broke the silence. A clearly of a throat that head aloft the head of a little bird whose plumes were beautiful to all that took the time to look at her for who she truly was, Tyrion’s gaze rose as his wishes that it be someone else raced through his thoughts. Wishes that would go unfulfilled for there before him stood the young woman, Sansa Stark, eldest daughter to the animal tamers Eddward and Cathryn, he politely smiled at her just before he spoke.

“And what brings you to this hour of the day? Should you not be resting that head upon a soft pillow?” He knew that the Starks were among those of the circus crew that had enough money for their own private carriages, three in fact. One for the parents, one for their mob of boys and one for the girls to given them privacy during those womanly times, and yet always parked in a semi-circle position with a camp fire and washing line in front. 

“I have a new routine I want to get an early start on.” She smiled back at him, he was sure it was nothing more than the manners her parents had disciplined into her, just as they had all their children. Surely, she would never be kind to him by her own free will, not when she could smile at some of the other males that were closer to her age among the crew, or those that visited the circus every afternoon to evening.

“A new song and flight for the little bird, I’m sure the visitors will flock to the tapestry you weave, Miss Stark.” How it pained him to know that so many males among the audience would eye her as nothing but a quick fix to an itch all males had. Yes, Tyrion was no fool even he had those primal urges, but unlike others he knew how to control himself. However, not many women would give him the time of day let alone think about such things with him. He gave his head a shake as if some gnat or fly had been buzzing around his head. 

Sansa nodded before moving over to grab herself a small mug for the tea she always seemed to partake of even when it wasn’t considered proper tea time. “A few changes and a new melody to be played while I perform nothing extravagant really, maybe even a new costume design. And don’t worry Tyrion it won’t hurt the circus’s budget.” She returned to the table he was sitting at, occupying the bench across from his own. Sipping her beverage, her eyes focused upon him as they peered over the brim of her cup. “What is it you write in that leather bound tome of yours? I know that’s not the bank book for the Ring Master, I’ve seen that one many times.”   
Tyrion pulled the book a little closer to him in a protective manner. No one among the circus folk had ever been allowed to peek inside his inner most thoughts. Should he trust her with his dreams? Place the one thing that could clip his wings in her hands? He looked down at the leather cover, his thumb brushing over it as if it were the cheek of a lover. “Simply my thoughts, Miss Stark. Nothing more, nothing less and certainly nothing that would be of any interest to someone as high standing as you.”

“Oh Tyrion,” Her laughter was like a small bell upon one of her costumes, tore him in two for he didn’t know if she made fun of his words or found them actually amusing. He was willing to bet that like so many others he had come across in his life, she laughed at him. “I am no more higher standing than you are. I like you am a circus folk as our customers’ wives whisper among themselves. I’ve seen them warning their children to avoid us, for who knows what voodoo and demons we serve. Even when they come to watch us perform, they still hate us.” 

Tyrion was shocked to hear such things from the little bird’s vocal cords. Surely, no one would dare talk bad about Miss Sansa Stark. Tyrion felt a pit of rage start to bubble up inside him. Who had dared insult this vision of beauty? Who had dared consider her as worthless as he was? No in his eyes, she was not mere circus folk. She would surely one day catch the eye of a real man, a man that would offer her the world away from all of this. A man that would take her and give her everything she deserved to be showered with. “You are truly a lady, Miss Stark. After all, you are not a freak as I am. You are not shortened by the fates cruel joke. You have talent and many things I do not.” He paused as he wanted to compliment her beauty, but surely, that would be pushing it too far. “You are able to soar while I will forever be stuck upon the ground… well unless someone decided to take up dwarf tossing.” He smirked trying to make light of his situation. 

Sansa shocked Tyrion so much that his breath froze within his lungs as she took a hold of his hand. Even though he was older than she, his hand was but like a babe’s sheltered by hers. He marveled at how soft the skin upon her palm was, even with the years she had been working the trapeze’s ropes or the aerial ropes made from beautiful silk scarves. Finally, he found his breath as his gaze slowly wandered from Sansa’s hand up until their eyes met. Moreover, there he found kindness shining there among the pools of her soul. “Dear Tyrion. You have many gifts that so few can see. After all without you the Ring Master would be hiding from the bank collectors. Alas I shall let you keep your secrets, for without secrets we would be nothing.” She smiled before standing up, taking her cup with her, thus leaving the little man alone with his thoughts. Thoughts now muddled and confused by the kindness she has just shown him.


	2. The Littlest Hero

By the time Tyrion had finished his cup of coffee and a brief breakfast of sausage, biscuit and egg, the circus had started to come to life. First, it had been the cries and yawns of the animals like the lions and wolves, even the horses could be heard stirring. Then came the acquainted clamors of the deadlier beasts, the hominids. It was as the tent began to fill up with the other workers of the circus that Tyrion took his leave, before some of them got the idea that it would be humorous to poke fun at him.

Avoiding the well beaten path that lead to the mess tent, the petite man moved through the corridors of tapestry and wood as he headed back to his little caravan wagon that had been custom crafted for his height. Now he would have made it back without an issue had it not been for the sudden urge to check in on Miss Stark, after all it wasn’t every day one got to see the foundation of a new act. The Lannisters who happened to own the Westeros Circus tended to not be big fans of change unless it benefited them, so any new ideas had to be run by the head of the family, Tywin who was rather tight fisted though very opinionated. So for Miss Stark to be braving that rocky ground with this new act intrigued Tyrion, which lead his footsteps towards the main tent.

Arriving toward the workers entrance of the striped and very aged tapestry, Tyrion slipped through the partly closed slit and moved to stand behind one of the band stands were the customers would sit and watch the performances unfold. He wouldn’t be visible to anyone and with his height he need not duck down to see through two of the wooden planks that made up the steps. His gaze dared not wander from their current focus, which was the striking young woman in her more casual costume. Sansa was already warming up with her usual routine upon the trapeze swing, thus living up to her name of ‘The Little Bird’.

Tyrion could imagine her in her full stage costume that usually included a swimsuit like leotard that sparkled and shined as it reflected the spotlight that targeted her nightly. Then there was the glorious feathers that draped from the small of her back like well tail feathers, they also helped bring notice to her swinging at the beginning of her routine. Luckily, for her they were shed for the more acrobatic movements that the tail might be caught up in.  Moreover, while the visitors to the Circus saw nothing but a brightly dressed female performing for their delights, Tyrion saw a woman that longed to soar as free as the birds she imitated every night. A woman he longed to help alas he could barely help himself.

Shaking himself from his inner thoughts and visions, he returned to the private show before him as Sansa began to stand upon her swaying perch. The swing had been specially designed for her in that it appeared more like a swing found in a gilded birdcage instead of a normal trapeze rope swing. Then she leapt into the air toward the other artist that was to catch her, her brother Robb. As she leap Tyrion could feel his own heart leap with her, in fear of her falling. In addition, as her hands were caught within the larger hands of her brother, Tyrion caught the sound of air he had been holding release in relief. The practice went on and Tyrion continued to either hold his breath or feel like he was soaring right alongside Sansa as she leapt, flipped and swung through the air.

At last she come to the end of the routine, flipping in a tuck and roll maneuver that brought her firmly on the ground with what might be considered a perfect dismount. As she gave her legs a rub down, Robb soon joined her and Tyrion could hear him couching her in a few things. He marveled at the smile and laughter that painted her delicate perfect features. He could hear Robb tell her that all she had to do now was work up the courage to speak to both the Ringmaster and the owner of the circus about her idea. He was sure that if she could work in an angle about how the act would bring in more customers, which meant more money that Tywin Lannister would agree to the whole thing. This of course made Tyrion’s mind perk up at an idea, he could help Sansa and she would never realize it was because of him that the old penny counter would agree to the change.

Robb left his sister alone as he ran off to go and practice with some of the other circus performers and to get some lunch, Tyrion decided that maybe he should slip out himself before he was discovered. Alas once again it was not to be as that moment the voice of the Ringmaster’s son, Joffery pierced the tent’s growing silence. “Girl. You there Little Bird.” Why did he always have to call the people by their stage names? Tyrion hated the boy for that, given his stage name was The Imp and Joffery always seemed to wear a smug grin upon his lips as he addressed Tyrion by that title. Nevertheless, to call Miss Stark by her name was an insult to the girl, one he could not tolerate. His hands clinched into fists as he moved out from the stands but still he did not make his presence known.

“Yes?” She had tried to ignore the rude little rodent of a male, but as he continued to call to her she had no choice but to acknowledge him. She smiled and was polite as her parents had taught her though she really wanted to run away. Sure, there had been a time she had thought him a prince of a male what with his looks and all. Then came the day she had caught him being mean to some of her brother’s wolves. Sansa believed that no animal should be miss treated, circus trained or not. She had tried to stop him and he had slapped her into the dirt, telling her that she was his property to do as he wished just like the animals were. Jon had saved her that day but she had never forgotten the cruelty that burned beneath that attractive features, thus making the male into a monster.

“What do you think you are doing? That was not your normal routine. You are wasting my father and grandfather’s money by working on that instead of the billing they created for you. Now tell me what will you give me to not tell my Grandfather how you and your brother are wasting his money.” It was clear the boy was trying to blackmail her into something. Sansa just looked down as she tried to figure a way out of this whole situation. Alas, before she could answer Joffery grabbed her face, then roughly pressed his mouth to hers. She fought him but it only made the arrogant prick dig his nails in to hold her in place as he pressed himself into harder. She began to groan not from enjoyment of the treatment but because she wanted to claw him but knew that if she did so he would tell people that she attacked him. That would result in not only herself but her family in trouble, maybe even cost them their home and jobs.

Tyrion could no longer stand by in the shadows watching this insolent pup attack the Stark girl. Stepping out he made sure it looked like he was coming from the tent’s main entrance toward the ring where Sansa was literally frozen with fear at the assault she was being forced under. Clearing his throat, Tyrion’s stride was sure and true a bit like the fabled Knights in all the fairy tales Sansa had once believed in. The noise was enough to break Joffery from his attack, causing him to step back away from her, which she was grateful for. Joffery however was glaring at Tyrion as if the man had interrupted him from doing something that he had a right to do. Tyrion just smiled at the boy and then did a small bow to Sansa who seemed to brighten up at that little act at kindness. “What do you want, Imp? Don’t you have some balls to go juggle?” Again Joffery was inching towards a good slap to his face, something that in Tyrion’s mind the boy should have gotten the very first time he had mouthed off to someone. Sadly his parents had coddled the boy.

“Seems I miss placed them and in my search for them I ran into your father, the Ringmaster. He’s currently looking for you as it seems your mother, siblings and uncle are heading into town and wondered if you would like to go with them.” That got Joffery into a jollier mood as he turned to leave. Alas he paused long enough to whisper into Sansa’s ear in what he thought was a whisper anyway. Tyrion frowned at what words slipped from the lad’s lips. “I’m not done with you yet, Little Bird. You belong to my circus and thus you belong to me. I shall have you in any manner I so wish.” HE then turned and left Tyrion alone with Sansa whom had a look of pure horror painted over her face.

As the tent’s side flap closed, blocking the day’s light, Tyrion turned to Miss Stark daring to take a hold of her hand in his. He stood there not uttering a word looking at how much like a small babe’s hand his appeared to be when next to hers. It was as if she held on to a child and not the hand of a man. He released a sigh of sadness at this thought which caught Sansa’s attention. She turned her gaze upon him then knelt down so that they might be eye level. “Thank you, Tyrion. I was at a loss of how to handle the situation.” She actually gave him a hug as a thanks, which caused Tyrion to close his eyes. Burning the feeling of her arms around him into his memory along with the perfume her body and hair held. Sandalwood and lemon, he smirked as he knew how much she loved lemon cakes.

“It is nothing, besides it gets him out of everyone’s hair if he’s in town. But next time he tries that please do at least slap him, and should a nail slip in there well it will be an improvement I think.” As he smirked at her, a dimple appeared and Sansa was a little take back as she hadn’t realized that Tyrion even had dimples.

“I just don’t want to cost my family their home and jobs by doing so.” She admitted to Tyrion as the hug was released. She did not move from her knelt down position though and he was sure her knees would be feeling the strain of such a pose soon.

Tyrion took a hold of her hand, patting the back of it as his expression was one of sympathy in her plight. “Then let me know that he has done such a thing and I’ll give him a good slap, I might even bend him over my knee and give him the spanking his mother should have a long time ago.” He was not afraid of Joffery or his mother. After all unknown to many circus workers, she was Tyrion’s sister even if their father rejected his bloodline, claiming to all that he had been adopted by Tywin’s late wife out of pity for the small babe that had been left on their doorstep before the purchase of the Westeros circus had ever gone through.

Sansa nodded to this little arrangement before standing up, brushing her shins free of straw and dust. “I shall remember that, again thank you.” She turned to head back this time to the balance beam near the back of the ring. “You are free to stay and watch if you like. I should have a spotter around anyway.” Tyrion was grateful that she had offered but knew that she only did it because of the manners she had been raised under. Not because she truly wanted him to stay, and even if she did it was most likely to protect her from Joffery’s return until Robb came back.

“Sadly the lad was correct in the fact that I do have some things I should be juggling. The books will never balance themselves if I don’t get back to them. Take care, Miss Stark wouldn’t want you injuring yourself before you can present the town with your stunning skills of acrobatic wonderment.” His kind words brought a blush to the girl’s cheeks that caused Tyrion’s heart to race. To know that his poetry could bring about such reaction made him feel special. He turned with a wave goodbye and left her to her stretching and other work out before lunchtime.

On the other side of the tent’s tarp, Tyrion closed his eyes before moving off to his little wagon. It was there that once the door was closed, thus separating him from the world’s judgmental gaze, Tyrion slowly sled down to the flooring, hands covering eyes as tears began to fall. He would never truly know what it would be like to have her truly want him around. So close and yet still so far.


	3. The Bell Ringer

He couldn't believe how so many people could stand, or in his case, sit around downing a beverage that had the appearance of a container filled with something no one should ever drink. Sitting there alone once more, Tyrion turned his mug this way and that as it perched upon the table top, half drowned down the little man's throat. He was amazed how something people were supposed to drink could look so much like someone had just pissed in the damn glass and then handed it over. Alas it was a drink that helped so many like himself forget things they were tired of remembering. And this night Tyrion had something, no someone he truly wanted to forget.

He wanted to forget the way her laughter sounded, the way her smile could make his stomach tighten into a knot so woven it would have made a Celtic jealous. The way he wanted to hide behind something when he caught her looking at him, and how it felt worse when that look was not one of pity but accompanied by one of her brilliant smiles. The sound of her voice saying his name and not one of the nicknames so many others called him. Oh how he wished she would call him one of those for it would be easier to move on. For Tyrion the emotions he felt within his small beating heart, an organ most likely as twisted and deformed as he was, for the lovely phoenix of the Westros circus was something akin to a mortal falling in love with an immortal goddess. Tyrion smirked as he turned the mug's handle back the other way, he would always be Quasimodo to her Esmeralda. Yes this night he had to drown himself in the piss colored alcohol for he had to forget her and her beauty.

After several more rounds, Tyrion was well into his cup and not carrying about anyone or anything. So when the men from a table just to his left began to make jokes about him, well he did what he was so used to doing already. He ignored them, or at least tried to. Another round later he realized that the men were not going to give up on using him as a punching bag for their drunken behavior, so again he did what he was so used to doing. Tyrion climbed down from the stool, placed some money on the table as a thank you to the waitress that had been bringing his drinks to him. And then he turned and faced the group of rude males, smiled and took a bow as if this was nothing more than a simple performance for Tyrion. "I am happy to have been some fun for you gentlemen. Sadly I must retire before my boss demands another show from me. Should you wish to continue this little game of yours, you can come to the Westros Traveling Circus not too far out of town. I doubt even in a state of inebriation you could miss it given the lights and noises it produces, especially among the darkness of the night."

With another polite bow, Tyrion turned and did his best to walk out of the tavern with a bit of his dignity still intact. Sadly his legs and center of balance did not get the notice and he stumbled into a young waitress causing her to drop her tray of full mugs that had been for the group of so called gentlemen. These of course upset them and so after watching the circus performer pay for his accident then continue on his way out into the streets, the group left their own table and followed him out. Tyrion by then had moved over into a slightly darken alleyway to relieve himself never realizing he had company until one of the men made a rather rude remark about Tyrion's anatomy.

The other men started to laugh thinking their companion was hiliarous, Tyrion however turned toward the one that was clearly the leader. Marking his boots as he did so, he gasped at this and gave the man a look before remarking about it himself. "Forgive me, it seems it often has a mind of its own and had mistaken you for a bitch." He then gave the man a smirk before zipping himself up and trying to exit the alley way. What happen next was a blur, a blur that was topped by great amount of pain.

The group left Tyrion laying there in a puddle of their own urine and spit, wounds covering him from head to toe. But the greatest insult to injury was the fact that they had cut his clothing into rags as well as having left him with a rather dangerous gaping slash wound upon his face. The denied Lannister would have surely died from many reasons had he not been found by two kind souls. Souls that were but darkened shadows through eyes that could make out nothing, as his head however was sure that he was being moved from where he had been left to another location. Oh how a part of him wished that this was his time of death, for he would never have to torment the beautiful Sasha with his horribly disfigured features or his disproportionate body.

Finally the moving stopped, and he felt the pressure of a straw mattress upon his back as well as a pillow carefully placed behind his head. He couldn't make out the exact things that were being uttered by the people in the room, but he could make out that it was three males and a female. The female actually seemed worried about him, but that was surely a state of delusion brought on by the injury to his head. For no woman could ever feel worried about a Quasimodo, let alone a miniature one. He tried to open his eyes, but he still could not make out the person tending to him so tenderly.

But then something managed to pierce through the haze, a spot of fiery embers, but that was definitely impossible as she would never dare to be so close to him, let alone treat him in a manner such as this person was doing. And so Tyrion closed his eyes once more to the world, letting slumber overcome him. Or rather what he hoped was his final breath on this plane of existence.


	4. Changing The Tune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through an act of kindness, Sansa is given a look into who Tyrion really is. Thus bringing a new beginning to her eyes, thoughts and maybe even her heart. Sadly this moment of enlightenment is shattered as Tyrion is brought back from town by Ned, Rob and John. Catelyn is there to help but soon Sansa is the sole care taker of the weak and badly injured book-keeper of the Westeros Circus. Will this be the turning point for the two? Or will things go back to the old ways upon Tyrion's awakening?

Silence drifted across the field like a woman’s lost scarf. The audience had long gone home, the stalls of various wares closed up as the animals had been fed just as the performers had. The only souls awake by now were those in charge of cleaning up inside the big top and Sansa. The show might have been over and yet she had noticed that the book keeper hadn’t been present during the evening meal shared by all. Her parents and siblings hadn’t seen him since just shortly after the end of Sansa’s act, but they nor did anyone else for that matter seem worried by this. Well no one but the little bird. She had wished to thank him again for rescuing her from Joffrey earlier in the day. Maybe even ask him about some of the books he was rumored to have held up in his wagon, Sansa after all enjoyed such trivial things. And so after the dinner was over and she had changed from her stage costume into something a little more relaxed fit, Sansa headed over to Tyrion’s trailer to see why he hadn’t come to dinner.

What waited for her was not the sight she had expected to find. While the wagon’s exterior appeared to be rather boring and thus normal, the interior was another story. Sansa had cautiously approached, having started to doubt herself and the choice to come see the little man. Climbed the little step ladder, wrapped thrice upon the door only for it to swing back upon the third knock. Realizing it was unlocked this puzzled the girl who continued to push it open with the tips of her fingers as her voice called out his name. “Tyrion? Book-keeper? Are you there, sir?” Alas his voice nor his presence was not what greeted her inquiries. Gasping at the sight, Sansa had no doubt in her mind what had transpired or who had done it. Joffrey, and while his hands might not have done this, an order given to his hound did. Sansa now truly felt sorry for the book keeper for his things were in ruins.

Stepping into the wagon, the eldest Stark girl set to work on trying to fix what she had in the end caused. After all if Tyrion hadn’t had to rescue her, Joffrey wouldn’t have had a reason to take it out on the other male. It was a long task, many things ripped apart so badly she would not be able to piece them back together. Books with sections of pages ripped from their bindings, breaking Sansa’s heart. To do such a thing to something so innocent was truly a crime. Sadly it was not a punishable one for the law both of the circus group or the state in which they were currently in cared about something like a book. She closed her eyes a few times, cradling the object to her bosom as if saying farewell to an old and very dear friend, and then threw the item into a trash bin along with papers and other things too badly damaged.

As time ticked by Sansa found herself starting to realize just how normal Tyrion truly was. Not the monster others would have her believe or the foul thing Joffrey claimed the man was. If anyone was a monster and most foul it was Joffrey and his dog. After all monsters didn’t read books, didn’t keep books, didn’t go out of their way to protect a girl when they surely had better things to do then that. ‘Oh what’s this?’ She pondered as her hand brushed against something hidden beneath the pillow, which she had been moving as the bed was being fixed up with fresh clean linens.

Sitting down, the little bird opened the cover carefully, her eyes scanning the pages as the words unfolded before her. This was not some publically published book, no it was more of a journal. A journal of poetry. A journal that was a map into the being that had written such beautiful works of art in their own handwriting. A map into the book-keeper’s soul, and what a beautiful soul it was blooming into, so much so that Sansa’s mouth was agape with awe at the beauty this man born with such deformities possessed. As she read on, Sansa didn’t realize that she had shifted in her position to be leaning against the pillow that was now under one arm while her legs, stripped of her shoes were curled up close to her body. The book in the hand of the arm resting upon the pillow while the other one was used to either turn a page or hold on to the shin of her top leg. The material was wonderful and she was quickly growing lost in it. So lost that the little bird laid her head upon her arm, then the pillow and finally slumber over took her eyelids. A short little rest would surely not hurt anyone, her mind and body told her and she would be safe in the wagon so long as no one knew she was there. Sansa doubted that she need to worry about Tyrion hurting her if he came back and discovered her. And so she drifted into a world of dreams and memories.

At first it was a simple dream, one of her running through a golden field laughing with her sister and then the dog she had been given by her father. Then the dreams turned to memories, memories of the times the book-keeper had been there watching her, but not in a creepy stalker manner like Joffrey or his hound was known for doing. No there was a sadness to his gaze as if it hurt him to look upon her and yet he continued to do so. He was always nice to her, spoke to her as not only an adult but as if she actually had a brain and not just some ditzy female like again others did. He treated her as if he valued her. Not in the same way her parents valued her, or her siblings no this was more. It was as if to Tyrion she was something to treasure as well as nurture. And yet he seemed hurt when he was around her. Then in the memories she began to see one reason he might be hurting. The looks she gave him even when she was what she had always thought was nice. Sansa felt a ball of guilt and uneasiness forming in her stomach as it twisted in on itself and over again. Sansa realized that even through all of Tyrion’s kindness she had looked upon him as others had, even though she spoke to him which was more than others among their group or outside of it had done. Her eyes revealed the fear and distaste in his appearance, something she had been denying to herself when conversing with him. In that moment of realization Sansa Stark woke with a start, moisture upon her cheeks as she had been crying for the way she had treated Tyrion when he had been nothing but kind to her.

As her hand wiped away the tears with the corner of her shirt, Sansa’s ears caught the sound of people outside. Quickly placing the tome back in its hiding spot then hopped off the bed running to the doorway, slipping outside in hopes that it would appear that she had just been there and was seeking out Tyrion. Didn’t need people thinking she had been there all this time, even if she might look at Tyrion in a new light one’s reputation was still important and she couldn’t have people talking about how she was a loose unwedded woman. As she moved down to the last step, sitting down as if she was waiting, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness of the night. Listening to the people that were clamoring not too far off, Sansa’s heart froze within its cage as the voices were that of her father, two elder brothers and her mother.

“Oh god, who could have done this to him?” Catelyn asked.

“I don’t know. We found him like this. Rob did his best to clean and bound the wounds but he’s going to need medical help.” Ned explained to his wife.

“I’m betting it was those guys we saw running down the street before we found him, Father.” John piped in as he made sure to not walk to fast for Rob didn't have the stride length as he did.

“I wouldn’t doubt it John, but given we didn’t witness the attack it would be our word against theirs and you know people don’t take the word of carnies for truth.” Ned turned and looked back at his son.

“I know, wish we had caught them in the act though.” Again John spoke about it.

“Hush that talk, I’ll go see if Robert can’t send for the doctor in town.” Catelyn glared at the half blood of her husband.

“No use that doctor won’t see him, we just came from there remember.” Rob suddenly spoke up from the back end of the stretcher.

“Well someone has to treat him, you and John head out in the morning and try to convince the one in the next town. If that doesn’t work keep trying even if you just find an herbal one.” Catelyn was growing tired of this line of conversation.

“Yes dear. Come on boys help get him into his wagon. Catelyn dear go get some hot water and rags, we’ll do our best.” Ned chuckled at his wife's orders.

The sound of feet running off was heard before Sansa was discovered by her father and brothers. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Sansa stood up, hoping they wouldn’t notice the flush to her cheeks from guilt and a little bit of embarrassment. “I couldn’t sleep so I came to see if the book-keeper might have a book I could borrow. He wasn’t here so I figure I’d wait a few minutes… oh my god.” Her eyes fell upon the form that lay upon a stretcher between her brothers. Laying there with clothing clearly torn, stained with a mixture of dirt and blood was the book-keeper. A rather large bandage stretched over his face and thus around his head, hiding one eye from view. There were other bandages upon him but that area was the most eye catching.

“Well I doubt he’ll be in any mood to be leaning out any books. Now get yourself back to bed.” Her father demanded as he walked past her to the door, opening it for his sons to bring Tyrion into it. Sansa didn’t leave, and when her father gave her a look, she couldn’t help but hang her head a little as her gaze fell upon her hands. Her father smirked and then nodded, “Fine you can help, I’m sure your mother when she gets back will be grateful. Besides I think it’ll be better if it’s just you two women in there as the wagon seems a bit small for three large men. Come on boys, once your done getting him on the bed we’ll go talk to Robert about this. He’ll want to know what’s up instead of discovering it himself in the morning.” The boys did as they were told and then left, Ned placed his hand upon Sansa’s shoulder giving it a knowing squeeze. He was proud of her.

Catelyn returned with herbs to help heal the wound from the knowledge her mother and the women before her had passed down. Seeing Sansa there as Ned gave his wife a look that seemed to speak a language only they knew, she sighed not overly thrilled by this but she could use the help. Besides it was time Sansa learned how to treat a man if she was to hopefully marry one day. Cat just hoped the child wasn’t the kind to shy away from such sights, or worse turn into a giggle box. “Sansa help me disrobe him, the sooner those things are tossed aside the better. To the gods they smell like piss.” She exclaimed as Sansa moved in to help her mother.

Time ticked by and with it came the cleaning of Tyrion’s body and the wounds. Herbs mixed into water that was then dabbed over the cuts and bruises, cuts and deeper wounds were carefully stitched closed by Sansa’s rather skilled hand while her mother began to bandage Tyrion up. Catelyn then took the clothing to show Robert while leaving Sansa beside Tyrion’s bed should he wake up. He would not wake up for several days and during that time his sole care giver was Sansa herself. She did it out of guilt for how she had treated him before that night of his abuse. But as time went on, she took up little things she need not do like read to him from the books that she owned and that filled his wagon. Her touch at first was fearful but then she lost the fear, replacing it with tenderness for the book-keeper.

Then one day while tending to the bandage around the wound upon his face, she smiled for his eyes began to open. She ran to the door, calling out for her father and mother as well as Robert to come quickly. Returning to Tyrion’s side, Sansa didn’t realize it but subconsciously she reached out for his hand. A hand so small and delicate in her hand and yet there was strength unlike any other within that body part. Smiling as she waited for Tyrion to realize where he was, she felt her heart go out to him. Maybe, just maybe she had been as wrong about him as so many others were. From now on she would do her best to not cast looks of fear or disgust upon him for like the little song bird of the carnival, the book-keeper needed a friend. Sansa would do her best to be that friend, if Tyrion allowed her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse for this Chapter was sparked to life thanks to the Sanrion Appreciation Week over on Tumblr, ran by essentialasair and thatlovelylydia. Thanks ladies for the first two themes of the week that fit just beautifully into this chapter. For those curious the themes for the first two days were Beginnings and Touch. And both have been covered in so many interpretations in this chapter. Hope you enjoy and be sure to check out the Tumblr for this lovely Sanrion appreciation week (which I hope will be a reoccurring event. ;) )


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